


Reconnecting With Old Friends

by mamdible



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Mental Illness, Original Character(s), surprisingly humorous compared to what i normally write, though they are not really important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-06 06:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18382481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamdible/pseuds/mamdible
Summary: Akashi Seijuuro is forty two, twice divorced, and very lonely (though he will admit that to no one). What else is there to do but break in to the house of a friend he hasn't talked to in twenty years (though he has certainly monitored all of his past acquaintances closely)?He didn't exactly plan on catching Shintarou in bed with another man, or to have a crisis of sexuality far too late, but it will all turn out fine in the end. He is absolute.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ah Akashi is so bourgeoise in this one.... makes me wanna revolt. Anyway the original characters are Akashi's two ex-wives, ex-wife number one's hot girlfriend, his maid/therapist with a gag order, and some dude who was lucky enough to sleep with Shintarou.

After graduating high school, Akashi followed along the path set out for him fairly placidly, if simmering with the rage of all those who don’t have a choice in what they do. He eventually inherited his father’s company, and began to make it prosper far better than Akashi Masaomi ever managed, and – at his father’s insistence – he got married.

Takahashi Sana was a very lovely woman, well bred and from a prospering company. She was intelligent, talented, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with her father’s company, or him. The marriage lasted a year and a bit, during which she used the angst of a passionless, arranged marriage to create many gorgeous pieces of art before shaving off all her hair and eloping with a nineteen year old lesbian called Suzuki Yui in a fairly spectacular mental breakdown. 

Akashi bought several of the pieces, as they really were gorgeous, and he felt he needed something to commemorate the absolutely spectacular woman (whom he had no interest in) who hated his guts by association. The affair was hushed up, Sana and Yui got married, and he was alone once more.

This meant it was much easier to have affairs with various women, so he didn’t particularly mind. His father, nearing sixty and about to retire, did mind. He minded quite a bit. So within six months of Sana’s departure, he was married once more, this time to Nakamura Himari. 

Himari was fairly ambivalent to the idea of marriage, and to the idea of him. She was fairly ambivalent to most things, actually, which lead to her staying silent for increasing amounts of time. His father enjoyed this trait, as he thought women should be demure. Akashi found it fairly worrying, and also unsettling, because while Himari was quiet most of the time, she was also viciously observant.

His marriage to Himari also meant that he couldn’t sleep with anyone, which was fairly frustrating, since she had made it clear she wasn’t interested in him, or in anyone else. After ten years of marriage between him and Himari, his father finally had a massive heart attack due to the stress of managing a giant company for over fifty years, and keeled over dead. A week after his funeral, they divorced on ambivalent terms, mostly because their relationship was quite non-existent, since he was practically never at home and even when he was Himari was completely silent. 

So, he found himself, age 42, twice divorced, entirely alone. He had, of course, had people keeping track of his old friends from middle school, out of some vague sentiment, but he hadn’t really payed attention to those reports in quite some time, too distracted with managing a fucking corporation.

But loneliness crept up on him as it was wont to do, and he found himself sifting through various reports on his former teammates. Kise was an actor, gracefully aging out of the attractive young man and into the weathered superstar he was always meant to become. Kagami and Aomine were close to retiring from the NBA, and still living together – he wonders why, they could each afford their own mansion at this point – Murasakibara was a blue-collar worker, and Midorima was a doctor. 

The last one surprised him most, actually. He had always thought that Midorima would be the same as him, would take over the family business as commanded by tradition, but it seems he shirked his duty, and his sister Atsuko is helming the conglomerate. 

And now he is standing outside a fairly nice, but not lavish apartment, and waiting for the door to be answered. The apartment belongs to Shintarou, bought fairly cheaply. He doesn’t understand the other man at all; even if he isn’t the CEO of a medical company, he is still has access to the bursting coffers of the Midorima family, so why settle for something so… small?

He has already knocked, twice, and pride prevents him from doing so again. It also prevents him from leaving, so he is stuck outside the door. It’s fairly cold, too, so he reaches for the handle and turns it, so that on the off chance-

Of course it opens. He is absolute. Never having had much of a problem with intruding on other’s property, he wanders inside, observing the neat disarray of the apartment. It seems Shintarou has not abandoned his penchant for horoscopes (unlikely, since such fervent adherence to frivolity was an obvious sign of a mental illness, and those things simply don’t disappear, especially not without proper treatment) as rather random, colourful objects are stored either in cardboard boxes, or are simply placed on shelves. 

Everything is neatly labelled, without a hint of dust or dirt, but the crowdedness is… distasteful. It was much more palatable, this obsession of Shintarou’s, when all his belongings were hidden out of sight – his room was for study and nothing more, and only after having completed homework and extracurricular education was Shintarou allowed access to such distractions. A very clever system, his father had thought. He had thought that he was lucky he didn’t need such methods to corral him into studying.

There is no sign of Shintarou, though multiple pairs of shoes are by the entrance, so he must be home. There is some noise coming from down the hallway; the creaking of furniture, rustling of clothes. Well, there’s his answer as to where Shintarou is – probably in his bed, lifting weights or something equally futile, because even though neither of them play basketball any longer, he is still absolute.

Even the hallways are lined with trinkets. Its so… he cannot put his finger on what the problem is. He is, of course, excited to talk to Shintarou again after so many years, but something is just…

He doesn’t bother to knock before opening the door, this time. He simply locates the source of the noise, and cheerfully wrenches the boundary between him and Shintarou open. 

And – regrets it. 

Because Shintarou is there, and he is not alone. He is lying on the bed, legs spread, face flushed, the slightest hint of tears glittering on his eyelashes, and someone else is between his legs. Someone distinctly male, someone who lets out a yelp when they notice him, and Shintarou follows with a scream, and-

He closes the door. He regrets opening it in the first place. 

He leaves the apartment.

 

***

Later, after some reflection, he admits that perhaps what he did was breaking and entering, and perhaps it was in poor taste. At least that’s what his maid-slash-confidante said, while stuttering and terrified. 

Hana really is an excellent woman, always willing to listen to him. And the gag contracts he had her sign ensure her everlasting silence on his problems, so there are no issues there. She isn’t ambitious, either, so there’s no threat of blackmail.

It’s for the best. The last thing he needs is to silence another loyal employee, after all. 

“Though I am surprised that Shintarou is a homosexual,” he says, and she flinches a little. “I always thought he was smarter than that.”

“I- I don’t think that there’s really a correlation between being gay and stupidity, Akashi-sama.”

He ponders as to what he’s actually trying to convey, which leads him to ponder what he’s actually feeling, and that leads him nowhere, because his emotions are fleeting and amorphous. 

“No, no, of course not. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I always thought Shintarou was more in control of his baser instincts than to ever act on it.”

Hana flinches again, and this time there’s some stoniness in her shoulders, as if she disagrees with something he’s saying. She is wrong, of course, and he is right, but it amuses him to hear her arguments, as they will affect nothing. He is absolute.

“What’s the matter, Hana?”

“Ah… I believe that people of that inclination are not out of control for experiencing love and attraction.”

She is hesitating to say something, hands fluttering about the Shogi board laid out for the both of them (he is winning, and Hana isn’t even as good as Shintarou, but she is better than most, and it is entertaining to play with those lesser than him). “Akashi, I believe that if you were to examine your behaviour upon meeting with your friend, you were a tad more… out of control than S-Shintarou.”

That… actually rankles him a little bit. He had acted without much thought, but it surely wasn’t his fault – Shintarou is the one to blame in this situation, though he isn’t sure as to what Shintarou is taking the blame for, as no crimes were committed, outside of the crime that he committed.

As if sensing his hostility, Hana pulls back, and makes an obvious, purposeful mistake. Akashi takes advantage of it, and makes Hana’s defeat obvious, and the conversation moves on. 

Was he out of control, that day at Shintarou’s apartment? Surely not. He is always perfectly in control. He is always absolute. Still, he can admit that he was not exactly… thinking things through to an extreme level when breaking in to Shintarou’s home. 

The poor man must be frightfully embarrassed. And Akashi hasn’t even contacted him to let him apologise, either. He still doesn’t feel quite prepared to, actually. First, he must attempt to understand Shintarou’s homosexual inclinations and understand how to control them – and to do so, he must make contact with someone else of the homosexual persuasion. 

His eyes fall on the large painting of himself, his father, and various other businessmen being brutally dismembered by a tall, muscular woman with fairly sharp teeth. Takahashi Sana has not contacted him in nearly twelve years, but he is fairly sure he still keeps tabs on her. The reports get buried, like everything else, under mountains of other reports on other people, more important and troublesome than his lesbian ex-wife who strongly hates him.

***

He arrives in Logan City not a day later, worn out and fairly jetlagged. Logan City is just outside of Brisbane, in Australia, and while it is winter in Japan, the Australians have for some reason decided to be in the middle of a swelteringly humid heatwave of a season. 

The house he is outside of is fairly large, and also fairly run down. Paint is peeling from the outside, he’s not sure if paint is even on the inside, and it’s all very… poor. Nevertheless, he rings the doorbell, and a woman taller than him greets five minutes later.

She really is taller than him – his face is about even with her chest, which is less than impressive in size, and concealed by a tank-top that might once have been white, but is now decidedly not. She is muscular, and young, though she was once younger, and she is the woman in the paintings.   
He knows her name, and she knows his, and she laughs in his face. 

“Are you in love with her or something? Get a life, man. Fuck off.”

Though his English is at fluent level, the sentence is hard to understand through the thick and obnoxious Australian accent, added to by the slight drunkenness of the woman spitting out the words. 

“Nothing of the sort. A close friend of mine is homosexual. I wish to know more about homosexuals.”

She sighs, and grabs him by the lapels of his shirt, and drags him inside. True to his suspicions, it is not painted. He is practically thrown down on to a sofa that seems to not have any springs at all, and sinks a good half-foot.

“Right, lesson one, don’t call people homosexuals. Say gay or lesbian or bi, or say nothing at all, got it? Lesson two – don’t tolerate. Either accept fully, or get the fuck out. Alright?”

Suzuki Yui rattles on for some time, at length, as to how he should behave around people of the homose- no, people who are gay, but the lessons devolve into a rant as to how much she wants to murder her father (Akashi shares the sentiment, but does not share the murderous gleam in her eye. He feels that she might actually do it, if given the chance, and the thought unsettles him more than it should). 

Sana returns after three hours of this vivid description of various tortures and planning, to which he offers little input other than tiny improvements as to help her not get caught when she inevitably puts this plan in to action, and he is shouted out of the house.

He is back in Japan another day after this, thoroughly exhausted and drowning in jetlag. 

The first thing he does is sleep. After twenty seven hours, he wakes up at three in the morning, and blindly reaches for his phone in the dark, succeeding in knocking over a glass of water (or is it wine?) and cutting his finger on something before he finally finds the damn thing.

It takes thirteen rings for Shintarou to pick up, bleary and annoyed. 

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Shintarou. You are gay. I accept you. You do not have to apologise for anything. I wish to meet up some time soon.”

“What the fu-“

He hangs up, having said his piece, and rolls over, determinedly going back to sleep. 

His dreams are not uneventful.

(He images in the scene from a different perspective, in which he is the one between Shintarou’s legs, and Shintarou is blushing and moaning beneath him. His skin is pale, and flushed, and there is an excellent heat around his dick.

It’s almost painful to wake up, though he realises upon waking that the actual reason it’s painful is because his erection is pressing roughly against the zipper of his suit slacks.)

Akashi Seijuuro is forty-two years old, twice divorced, and is jerking off to thoughts off a male middle school friend whose house he broke in to after twenty or more years of not seeing each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't originally planning on adding another chapter to this, but like one person asked and so i delivered. im a sucker for interaction lmao

It takes him some time to get used to his apparent bisexuality. Most of this time is spent ranting to Hana, whose face becomes more and more drawn with each conversation. He suspects she doesn’t actually want to hear about his attraction, and how he acts upon it, but Hana doesn’t say anything, and he carries on.

He believes he has mastered his attraction when he successfully rubs one out to gay porn, without any thoughts of disgust or Shintarou (though Shintarou is still on his mind most of the time). And once he has mastered this attraction, he begins the obvious next step.

To him, it is simply logical that Shintarou and he begin a relationship. They are both attracted to men, and obviously Shintarou is compatible with him – they have worked together for years in middle school, even if their partnership did end in a mental breakdown for himself and the extreme exacerbation of Shintarou’s unknown mental illness and compulsions, and obviously they would do very well together now.

Hana is less sure.

“Akashi, I don’t believe that this is a particularly wise course of action. I mean, your last interaction was a midnight phone call, and before that you broke in to his house and walked in on him having… intercourse with a paramour – who he might currently be in a relationship, might I add.”

She has become a little less shy after hearing so much about his exploits, a little more secure in her position. He can’t really fire her, after all, because she’s far too useful to throw away. Perhaps she has realised that, or perhaps she has just ceased to care either way.  
He doesn’t listen to her complaints, and instead grills her on how to court someone. She suggests flowers and chocolate, and he immediately purchases a bouquet of Lisianthus and Juliet Roses, and employs a chocolatier to create some sweet thing, and sets off to Shintarou’s apartment.

His driver, Yamamoto Hayato, is somewhat confused as to where he is taking his master, and offers to come along and function as his bodyguard, but Akashi declines his offer. He mustn’t frighten Shintarou, after all, and illegal semi-automatic weapons hidden in the waistcoats of hulking giants do tend to make people a little nervous.

So, armed with a bouquet and a box of chocolates, he approaches Shintarou’s apartment. The elderly lady stares at him from her window as he stalks down the hallway, and he pays her no attention. 

This time, he knocks, and waits for Shintarou to actually answer the door, instead of simply breaking in. It takes him one minute and twenty seconds to pull open the door.

Shintarou’s face changes in a millisecond, contorting into an expression of surprise and disgust, and he tries to slam shut the door. Fortunately Akashi manages to jam his foot between the frame, and Shintarou hesitates to crush his foot, allowing him the opportunity to squeeze past the other man. This all happens in the space of a few seconds, and sends a rush of competitive adrenaline down his spine. 

“Shintarou,” he says. “I believe it would be beneficial for both of us to begin a romantic relationship.”

“You’re being ridiculous. We haven’t spoken in years.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous. We spoke barely three weeks ago.”

“That was just you calling me in the middle of the night with some ridiculous message regarding my sexuality!”

He is a tad offended. His message was in no way ridiculous – he personally thought it was quite deep and heartfelt, even if he was half delirious from sleep or lack thereof.

“Why on earth would you refuse? We work well together,” he says. Shintarou’s mouth twists, seemingly in disbelief.

“The last time we were close, you would routinely humiliate me and treat me as lesser than you, even before you had some nervous breakdown and began honestly psychopathic terrorisation of your teammates. And then, in high school, you used my lucky items to nearly kill someone, and then you used a basketball game to play ridiculous mind games that resulted in my own nervous breakdown!”  
Well. That’s… he honestly didn’t know that Shintarou felt that way. His actions had been fairly logical to him, especially at the time, but perhaps they were less logical and fair to those whom the actions had been done to. 

The anger slides off Shintarou’s face, shutters of control closing once more. “And besides,” he sniffs, “I prefer men that are taller than me.”

“Shintarou, you’re 195 centimetres tall. There are few men that are taller than you in Japan,” he says monotonously, desperately trying not to ankle break his old friend, because his height is one thing that he is a tiny bit sensitive about.

“Please get out,” Shintarou says, and Akashi relinquishes his bouquet and chocolate to a coffee table with a sliver of space, and takes his leave. 

***

He doesn’t give up. Of course he doesn’t give up, it is only a matter of time before Shintarou folds, because he is absolute, and he will overcome this small problem. Of course, he will need someone a tad more familiar with Shintarou’s demeanour in middle school – he had thought that the only person the man was close to back then was himself, since he seemed to take issue with the habits of everyone else, but perhaps Kise would know a little more. 

So he gives Kise a call, offers to meet up, and Kise bounds over happily, smile on his face. He hasn’t really aged in any ways that aren’t flattering, wrinkles somehow enhancing his beauty, and his bubbly personality hasn’t changed. 

“Well! Akashicchi! What did you want to talk about?”

“In middle school, was Shintarou… we were friends, weren’t we? Shintarou and I.”

Kise’s smile stops for a second, falters a bit. “Well, you certainly were together a lot!”

“That doesn’t mean we were close.”

“Ah… it’s just… you weren’t very nice to him. I mean, you used to play shogi with him, and uh… the punishments if he lost… I mean, they were funny at the time! But in hindsight, it was a little bit awful for him. He always wanted to be your friend, but you were never very nice to him.”

It is kind of a wake up call. Because at the time, it made sense, to punish Shintarou to make sure he got better – and he did improve, much more quickly with the added incentives, but he will admit, taking his lucky items or not letting him drink water or stealing his shoes weren’t particularly kind. 

He has always thought they were friends. He has always thought they were close, that they were two of a kind and that Shintarou, even if the other man falls a little bit short of beating him, of performing on the same level, was somewhat of an equal. 

And now Kise is telling him that he was little more than a childish bully. It is fairly startling; to find that one of his closest friends isn’t even his friend, and that he actually has so very few friends.

Does he actually regularly interact with anyone outside of his employ? Now that he thinks about it, no, not at all. It’s a disturbing realisation, and makes him feel quite lonely. 

“How do you think I could… make reparations?”

Kise sips on his drink in a fairly annoying fashion, but seems to be seriously pondering what course of action should be taken. 

“You should probably apologise! And maybe get therapy. I think you should definitely get therapy.”

Akashi nods, understanding very little of what his friend is telling him, and pushes back his chair. He is a very busy man, after all, and though it was nice enough to meet up with a childhood friend after so long apart, he has more important things to be doing right now.

Such as getting on a bus (actual public transport, for commoners, how quaint) and walking to Shintarou’s apartment immediately to apologise for his behaviour and fix all of this mess so that Shintarou will forgive him and immediately fall in love with him. 

This is his third time at Midorima’s doorstep. He knocks purposefully, and Midorima doesn’t answer. This confounds him somewhat, but he doesn’t give up, and continues to knock and wait, knock and wait, until he realises over three hours has passed and that Midorima is probably at work.

He feels fairly embarrassed by his late realisation, but honestly – the inflexible hours of poorer people are not something he is used to, and definitely not something he wants to be used to. But he’s too far in now, so he’ll simply wait until Midorima returns from his job.

(It is only when the battery on his phone finally dies - well into the evening, - that Akashi remembers that Midorima is a doctor, and that doctors tend to have fairly long hours.)

Waiting is much more boring without his phone to distract him, but it works well as a practise in patience, of which he has little.

***

He wakes up inside Midorima’s house, thoroughly confused, as he didn’t remember falling asleep in the first place. Midorima looms over him, glaring with his arms crossed.

As he is Akashi Seijuuro, the brief moment of disorientation associated with waking up in an unknown place disappears quickly, and he sits up, only a little dizzy.

“Shintarou,” he says, and Midorima sighs deeply. “I want to apologise for my behaviour in middle school and high school. I was under the impression we were friends, but I now understand that my behaviour towards you was unkind and cruel, and I apologise for it.”

Midorima actually looks quite odd, as if he didn’t expect Akashi to apologise. His face flattens out quickly, though. “I had a crush on you, in middle school,” he says.

Akashi feels the floor drop out from under him, feels his gut lurch in something like shock, something like hope.

“You never realised. And I got over it after your behaviour… changed. I had thought you would leave it at that, but apparently not.”

“I-“

Midorima sighs again, looking very put upon. “I wouldn’t be averse to dating you, you know. It would be… difficult, I’m sure, but if you had just approached this normally, it would have been perfectly fine.”

Akashi desperately wants to point out that Midorima is in no position to judge him for odd or strange behaviour, but he also desperately wants an actual, meaningful connection with someone, wants to be in love, and so he keeps his damn mouth shut.

“Would you… consider it, now? Having a romantic relationship, I mean.”

“…Maybe.”

He feels his heart swell with some sort of unnamed emotion, one that might be love – though he is unsure, unsure because he can’t remember feeling anything close to love before.

“P-please consider it,” he says, with such an uncharacteristic stutter it surprises even him. 

And if he pumps his fist in the air on his way back to the subway station, that’s for him to know and only him.

**Author's Note:**

> his maid isn't ambitious because she's a communist and hates her job. she's waiting for the day she finally fucking snaps and starts a revolution.


End file.
